


Secret

by lyrawinter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fantasy, First Kiss, Forbidden Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28712091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: This, her ability to feel him whenever he was one mile around her, was something she had never told anyone. She was Sansa Stark, the daughter of the director of the Order of the Light Side. It was wrong that she was the only one who could feel Petyr Baelish, the most powerful dark wizard of all time.It was wrong that they had this connection.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took some inspiration from both the Harry Potter and the X-Men universe. I felt like writing a story with the enemies to lovers trope and I came up with this idea. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

_Headquarters of the Order of the Light Side. 9 p.m._

She _felt_ his presence in the building and knew he’d disabled the security alarm again.

This, her ability to feel him whenever he was one mile around her, was something she had never told anyone. She was Sansa Stark, the daughter of the director of the Order of the Light Side. It was wrong that she was the only one who could feel Petyr Baelish, the most powerful dark wizard of all time.

It was wrong that they had this connection.


	2. Chapter 2

It had started after their first and only meeting, a week after her 21th birthday, when Sansa had become officially a member of the Order. A week after her first official mission: searching the seventh bracelet, the only one that was still lost.

Eight centuries ago, when the Long Night descended upon the world, the Targaryen leader was said to create seven bracelets made of Valyrian steel and forged in dragonfire. The legend said that when he felt that his end was near, he transferred his magic to the bracelets, so his magic survived him, so it could find another vessel: a wizard as powerful as him, capable of carrying that magic. Any other wizard who tried would die as soon as the bracelets touched their skin. 

That was why no one had ever tried.

The Order of the Light Side had managed to decipher the last clue who revealed the place where the seventh bracelet was hidden. Ironically, all this time, the bracelet had been so much closer than they imagined: the crypts beneath Winterfell. It was almost as if Fate were telling them that the last bracelet belonged to them, that they were the right owners.

If they could get the other six… 

But Petyr Baelish had found them first. And the Order knew that he would do everything in his power to get the seventh bracelet.

Sansa had been in the Academy the first time she met him, alone in the room where the professors and students worked out. A wizard not only needed to learn to develop and control their powers; they also needed to keep fit. They needed to be agile to dodge attacks and reach safety if needed. A member of the Order of the Light Side never attacked first. That was a rule Ned Stark had created when he founded the Order, a rule that differentiated them, the wizards who kept humans without supernatural powers safe, from Petyr Baelish and his supporters, who would never hesitate to turn the world into ashes to get what they wanted.

The members of the Order of the Light Side said that Petyr Baelish was evil, that there was no hint of compassion in him, that his heart had lost all its warmth when Brandon’s magic pierced his chest and almost took his life away. 

The past was gone but it couldn’t be changed. Ned and Catelyn acted as if Petyr Baelish’s childhood and youth never existed, as if he was born with this looks, a forty-year-old man with gray temples dressed in black robes, and with no human emotions. But the truth was always there, hanging over their heads, waiting for the right moment to hit, just like a stream of magic out of control. 

And the truth, the painful truth, was that Petyr Baelish had been a kid, and later a young boy, and he’d laughed, and sang, and played, and dreamed, and used his magic to create flowers and birds and dragonflies.

He’d grown up with Catelyn and Lysa and Edmure, and Hoster had taught them how to use their telekinetic powers and had told them what line they must never cross. They couldn’t use their powers to subdue innocent people or for egoistic reasons. There were ethical principles every good wizard must follow.

Before he became the most powerful dark wizard of all time, Petyr had followed those principles.

Before he became the most powerful dark wizard of all time, Baelish had told Catelyn that he loved her.

The truth, the awful truth that Ned and Catelyn tried so hard to forget was that Lysa had overheard that conversation: she’d overheard Petyr confessing Catelyn his feelings and Catelyn rejecting him, and she’d used that knowledge to her advantage.

Lysa had crossed the line before Petyr.

One night, she’d get into Catelyn’s head and had made her lose her consciousness. It had been so easy. Catelyn hadn’t expected her own sister would use her powers against her.

Then, like in the Arthurian myth where Merlin had disguised Uther to look like Gorlois and sleep with Ygraine, Lysa had disguised to look like Catelyn and had entered Petyr’s bedroom. 

The truth, the infamous truth, was that her plan had succeeded.

By the time Catelyn woke up, Lysa had already recovered her real appearance and had fled.

Many years had passed since then and no one knew where she was, or if she was actually alive. 

Those events had happened before Sansa was born, but something had broken within her when she’d learn about them. Her uncle Edmure had told her when she was a teenager. Catelyn had asked his brother to do so because she couldn’t bring herself to speak of it. Edmure was one of the professors at the Academy. He taught History of Wizards from Ancient Times to the Present, and he never tried to sugar-coat reality. Besides, he was family, so Catelyn thought he was the right person to tell her sons and daughters when they were mature enough to hear it.

The truth Sansa held within herself was that she would like a private moment with Petyr Baelish to tell him how sorry she was, even though she’d been so certain that he would kill her if he found her alone.

She had been wrong.

Petyr Baelish had found her in the room where professors and students worked out. Alone. Everybody had already left. Outside, the moonlight peeked through the window, pale silver rays, the color of his temples.

Sansa wasn’t hitting a boxing bag or doing an obstacle race or jumping rope. She did those things when she was training with other wizards because it was what others expected of her and because she wanted to be strong. 

However when she was alone, she dimmed the lights, put on her ballet shoes and allowed herself to do one of the things she loved most in the world.

She danced.

All her worries disappeared when his feet slid across the floor, and her body twirled, and her arms traced patterns in the air.

She didn’t even need music. All she needed was privacy. 

Petyr Baelish had taken advantage of it.

She had just launched into a jump when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she landed on her left feet, one arm extended and the other slightly curved above her head.

Slowly, she lowered her arm and her leg, and turned her head.

She froze.

Petyr Baelish was leaning against the door, his black robes barely visible in the semi-darkness, his head slightly tilted. Sansa couldn’t see his expression, but his body language showed that he felt in control.

She knew why he was here. He wanted the seventh bracelet.

The question was: what was he going to do to obtain it?

She tried to run, even though she knew there was no place she could go. He was blocking the door. But she couldn’t move.

For a moment, she thought he was using his power to immobilize her, but she’d been immobilized by other students during their training sessions and this didn’t feel like that. She didn’t feel invisible ties keeping her in place.

It was her own fear, she realized. Her fear had paralyzed her. 

“I gather you know who I am.” He spoke softly. His voice had a raspy hint, and she felt a small tug at her chest, as if something within herself had awoken upon hearing him.

“I also know who you are,” he went on, and stepped into the room. The dim light caressed his face, revealing his features. The light stubble, his hair combed to one side. He was still near the door, but Sansa could perceive the intensity of his gaze.

He was handsome, more than any other wizard she’d ever seen. The thought entered her mind suddenly, and she felt afraid. Afraid of her reaction. He was the enemy. She had heard many things about him; she had even read about him in several books. She knew what he was capable of. 

She couldn’t be attracted to him. It must be his aura of power what drew her in, she reasoned. 

She wondered if other members of the Order had ever been attracted to him as well.

“I must congratulate you,” he broke the silence again. “For finding the last bracelet.” He took a step forward. “I suppose I must thank you too.”

She felt as if things were happening in slow motion around her, but her body reacted at last. She took a step back. 

The tug at her chest became stronger, more insistent. Almost painful, but again, she was certain he wasn’t using his power.

What was happening?

She needed to keep a cool head. She was on her own. She needed to get out of here. There would be time to analyze her reactions.

He took another step forward, but Sansa didn’t let him come any closer. Her hands raised by instinct, before she could ever decide how she was going to use her power against him.

It wasn’t a good idea to try and get into his head to alter his consciousness. He would probably expel her from his mind before she ever had a chance to enter. Besides, the sole idea of altering his consciousness brought a knot to her chest. She couldn’t do it. Not after what Lysa had done to him. 

Before she knew what was happening, she was using her power to push him. His shoes made a scraping sound as his feet slid backwards a few inches.

Then, he stopped. 

A smirk crossed his lips. He tilted his head and gave her a chiding look, and for a moment, Sansa felt as if they weren’t in opposed bands. She felt as if they were teasing each other.

As if they were flirting.

“You can't defeat me, Sansa.”

She swallowed. Cool head. She needed to keep a cool head.

“I can. And I will.” She wouldn’t give up. She’ll do everything in her power to get out of this room.

But a part of her rebelled against the idea of hurting him. A voice in her head asked her not to attack, only to dodge and run to the door at the first opportunity.

She was so busy trying to shut off that voice that she didn’t see him raise his right hand.

An invisible force lifted her from the floor.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

“Did you really think you could defeat me, Sansa?” He asked, but this time, his face was serious. He began approaching her. “Did you think that using your power to make me retreat would be enough? I admit I’m disappointed.” He stopped, the palm of his hand still extended and directed towards her. 

She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see him closing his hand. Wizards closed his hands to inflict pain.

She was lost.

Lost. Lost. Lost. 

She thought of her family and friends, and braced herself for the stabbing pain, but it didn’t come. She opened her eyes. She was still floating in the air, but he wasn’t hurting her. 

“Why didn’t you throw me across the room and leave?” he spoke in a low voice. “You could have had a chance.” Something flickered in his eyes. A human emotion.

Somewhere inside him, there was a heart beating. There was a man, and he looked touched by her action.

Was she the first member of the Order unable to attack him?

“I couldn’t.” If she was going to die, there was no point in lying. 

He lowered his arm slowly and Sansa began descending, like a feather. His eyes studied her. When her feet touched the floor, he asked:

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and this time she didn’t know if she was saying the truth or if she was trying to lie to herself.

He tried to close the distance, but Sansa retreated. If she was reacting like this when they were several feet apart, how would she react if he came to her?

“Please,” she said. “The bracelet isn’t here.”

But he didn’t look interested in the seventh bracelet anymore.

His gray-green irises darkened with every step he took. It was as if he were trying to read the truth in hers, and Sansa couldn't look away. She couldn’t… and she didn’t want to.

She gasped when her back hit the wall. 

His polished black boots lightly brushed against her ballet shoes. The fabric of his tunic fluttered, caressing her dress.

She was lost, but in a different way this time.

This time, she didn’t think she was going to die. 

Without taking his eyes off her, he placed his hands on the wall, on either side of her. His tunic brushed against the front of her dress. A faint scent of mint reached her; strangely, it was soothing and pleasant, and she thought of her walks through the forest, and the smell of moss and rain. Something warm filled her chest. It was as if her body was telling her that this was what she wanted, that they weren’t meant to fight against each other.

His eyes drifted to her lips for a moment, and she knew it had been an unconscious action when she saw him shut his eyes, as if berating himself. Soon, however, he was meeting her eyes again, and he seemed to have regained his control.

“You wanted to attack me, but something stopped you,” he said. “I want to know what it was.”

You, she thought, but she didn’t say it aloud.

“Do you want me to enter your mind and find it out instead?” His jaw tightened. “It won’t be pleasant, believe me.”

The bitterness in his voice made her heart sink. His words conjured up images in her mind. Images she didn’t want to picture. Had others, aside from Lysa, gotten into his head?

“I’m sorry,” she said. She wished she could undo the past. She wondered how his life would have been if Lysa had never existed. She wondered if he would be a member of the Order.

He misinterpreted her words. He thought she was refusing to answer his question.

“Then, I’m afraid there’s no other option.” He gave her what looked like a sad smile before gently brushing her hair off her face, and Sansa leaned into his touch unconsciously. His fingertips accidentally touched her skin, and both of them gasped.

Sansa was used to the prickly sensation that spread across her body the moments prior to using her power, but this couldn’t compare. This was much more powerful, as if…

No, it couldn't be possible.

She was channeling his power.

The realization made her knees buckle.

He grabbed her by the waist before she fell. Their faces were so close that she could feel his breath on her skin.

He must be feeling the same. She saw it in his eyes. The shock. He had wanted the truth, but it seemed that he wasn’t ready to deal with it.

He stepped back, and Sansa knew that his world, everything he’d believed in, was crumbling before his eyes.

The prickly sensation vanished as soon as he pulled his hand away. Sansa barely registered that she was on her knees. She looked up at him, and he returned her gaze.

Their breaths were ragged as if they’d been dueling.

“No,” he mumbled. “You can’t be…”


	3. Chapter 3

He had left afterwards and hadn’t tried to contact her. Petyr Baelish, the most powerful dark wizard of all time, was her soulmate.

And his absence had left an ache in her chest.

She didn’t know where he was or what he planned to do next.

She kept her daily routine and she didn’t tell anyone about their encounter. She didn’t tell anyone she was Petyr Baelish’s soulmate.

She kept dancing alone in the Academy after the sun hid, hoping he would come. She knew it was twisted. She knew that seeing him again only would make things harder. For she couldn’t join him. She couldn’t cross that line.

Yet, she kept waiting for him.

But he didn’t come.


	4. Chapter 4

_Headquarters of the Order of the Light Side. 9 p.m._

She _felt_ his presence in the building and knew he’d disabled the security alarm again, and the longing in her chest made her unable to breath for several seconds.

He’d come back.

She turned to the door, but he wasn’t there. 

The corridor was empty, but she knew he was somewhere in the building. Her steps took her out of the room.

She didn’t turn off the lights. She walked along the corridor, her ballet shoes sliding across the floor silently. She hadn’t bothered to put on her boots.

She turned a corner and climbed the stairs. What would the other members of the Order say if they saw her now, eager to find Petyr Baelish? She didn’t know what she expected to happen. She only knew that she needed to see him.

Has anyone ever managed to keep a distance from their soulmate? Was her destiny inevitably linked to his?

Did she want to keep distance from him?

She knew the answer, but it hurt to say it aloud. If she were a sensible person, she would turn around and go back home. She’d bear the longing in her chest until it faded. She’d tried to avoid him.

But she knew the other members of the Order wouldn’t try to avoid him. They’d try to defeat him, as they’d been doing for the past several years. And the idea of them hurting him was unbearable.

*

She found him in the room where they kept all the files about people with abilities and supernatural events across the world. He was sitting at the edge of the large desk, his hands in his lap.

He was waiting for her.

His lips slowly curled into a smile when she walked into the room. A proud smile, and also a smug one. He seemed to have accepted the situation. No, no just accepted. He looked pleased with how things had turned out.

“Sansa.” He didn’t rise from the desk. Tonight he wasn’t wearing black robes but a dark gray suit. Was this his attire when he wasn’t trying to rule the world? 

Her question sounded ridiculous even in her own ears. She stifled a laugh, and he noticed. His eyes shone with amusement. This time, he stood up and approached her. She didn’t retreat. She wasn’t afraid of him. Strangely she knew that he wouldn’t hurt her.

He came to her, and she closed her eyes for a moment when she perceived the scent of mint. It was comforting. Painfully comforting.

_What am I going to do?_

He was watching her face when she opened her eyes again, and he seemed to be wondering the same.

“Why are you here?” she asked him.

Her question brought a half smile to his face.

“I think you know the answer,” he said. “It’s the same reason why you’re here.”

“This is the headquarters of the Order.”

He shook his head, amused, and once more she felt as if they were flirting. 

Perhaps now they were.

He leaned in and whispered:

“You came to me when you felt my presence.”

She didn’t try to deny it. She just hoped the connection he felt was as strong as hers, that he’d finally come here because the ache in his chest was too much, that he’d been unable to resist it any longer.

Even if it meant they wouldn’t be able to keep apart from each other.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

He reached for her hair that was cascading down her shoulders and smiled, and she understood that he thought the answer was so evident that it was pointless to waste words.

He’d brought many wizards to their knees with a flick of his hand, the same hand that was now caressing a lock of her hair, and Sansa resisted the urge to brush her fingertips over his knuckles, to feel his skin against hers.

He stared into her eyes.

“Come with me,” he whispered. 

“I…” She swallowed and glanced at his lips. 

He cupped her face gently. His hand was warm, and his touch sent a jolt down her neck. Now she knew how his skin felt against hers, and she also knew that she couldn’t spend the rest of her life without feeling it again. 

“Look at me,” he murmured. 

She obeyed and sucked in a breath when she saw the pleading expression in his eyes. 

“Petyr.” Her eyes fell upon his lips once more. She didn’t want to think. She wasn’t ready to give him an answer. She just wanted to feel, to forget for a moment who they were. She closed her eyes. “Please, kiss me.”

She felt his thumb caress the corner of her mouth. She parted her lips and waited, but nothing happened.

“Open your eyes, Sansa, and ask me again.”

He knew what he meant. She wanted her to accept what she was feeling. She wanted her to stop fighting. 

She opened her eyes, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she placed a hand on his chest over the fabric of his suit jacket. Tentatively, she moved her hand a few inches and undid the first button. She heard him inhale, but she didn’t look up at him. Her hand slid under his jacket. His shirt was soft like silk. She moved her hand up and felt his heart quickening. 

“Sansa…” He almost sounded as if he were in pain.

This time she met his eyes.

“Kiss me, Petyr.”

His chest rumbled against the palm of her hand when he let out a groan. His mouth captured hers in an urgent kiss. Sansa’s stomach fluttered when his left hand rested on her waist, and she was almost certain she felt his smile. His right hand slid down her neck, and he deepened the kiss. Sansa clutched to his suit jacket feeling her own power and his intermingling as if they were one, and it occurred to her that maybe they didn’t need the seven bracelets to be invincible.


End file.
